


The Most Natural Thing In The World

by dontshootmespence, mggislife2789 (dontshootmespence)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: BDSM, Blow Job Talk, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Dom/sub, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Human Furniture, Mile High Club, Sex, Suspension, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, grapho-erotica, suspension play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontshootmespence/pseuds/dontshootmespence, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontshootmespence/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: An experienced Dom and a virgin meet in a bar. Can he introduce her to a world she’s always imagined but never known before? Is it everything she wanted?Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Spencer swallows hard, tempted by the thought but too cautious for his own good. He looks away quickly not wanting to give in.

Reaching out, you grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger and turn him toward you. “I know what I want. I want you. You want me. I know what I can handle.”

“But...you’ve never had sex before,” he says. “How can you be sure?”

You take three steps forward into his arms and delicately press your pink-stained lips to the underside of his chin. “I know my body. I know what I like. And I trust you. Would you ever hurt me?”

“No, of course not!” He says, almost offended.

Pressing into the lithe muscles of his body feels so natural and you need to know what it feels like to give yourself over to him. You want it so badly. “Exactly, we’ll have a safe word and you’ll respect it because you’re you. I don't know how a virgin and a Dom crossed paths, but we did and I don’t wanna give you up because of sex. I love you too much for that.” You hadn’t planned on confessing that to him before he did to you, but it just falls out of your mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A look you’ve never seen flashes across his eyes, both vulnerable and confident, and wavering between hungry and scared. “You don’t know the things I want to do to you.”

“I can imagine...” you whisper against his lips. You imagine it constantly, almost ashamedly so. The bruises he’d leave on your thighs, the way he’d hold your head down on the thickness of his cock, the sheer and utter lack of control you’d have at his hands. “Please, Spence.” With one more ditch effort, you grasp his face for a desperate kiss and pull at his bottom lip.

“Safe word is red.” The fear in his eyes slowly fades away and becomes something much more terrifying...and arousing. 

His grip as he drags you to the bedroom is more firm than he’d ever been with you. His stride is more purposeful. His breathing more labored. “Strip,” he demands, the last hints of fear floating away within the headiness of the room.

For a second you waver, overwhelmed by the change you see in him, but underneath it all is still the man you love. 

“Do I need to ask you again?” He asks as he removes his blazer and hangs it. A place for everything and everything in its place.

You shake your head and quickly strip unable to keep your eyes off the way Spencer is drinking you in. 

“Don’t cover yourself,” he says with a hint of a smile. You didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I want to see all of you.”

For a long while, he circles you and looks at every inch of your body. You’ve never been under this much scrutiny before. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, the trace of a whisper floating against the shell of your ear. He skins his fingers across your breasts, lingering every so slightly above your nipples before moving away and reveling in the need you displayed.

Without saying a word, Spencer heads to the closet and pulls out strips of silk. “What’s our word?”

“Red,” you respond quickly, desperate for him to touch you.

“On the bed, face up, hands over your head.”

Quickly, you do as your told and assume your position. Your arousal is so apparent already but as he’s tying you to the bed he takes note and slips his pointer and middle finger up your slit and bringing it up to his mouth to taste. “I’m going to make you scream. How does that sound?”

“Amazing,” you reply. Your mouth is going dry as he waits. It takes a moment before you understand. “Amazing, Sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” 

Your pussy tingles uncontrollably at the declaration. You’re his.

Every nerve is on fire when he climbs onto the bed and lays between your legs. He starts out slow, licking stripes up your slickness and gently sucking on your clit. The entire time he watches your face and you can only imagine how you look, but he knows you’re too in your head and starts in more enthusiastically. 

Your body arches up into his mouth when adds his fingers. Within minutes you cry out his name and beg for him to fuck you.

“What’s that?” He asks. “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me, Sir.”

“Where do you want me to fuck you?”

“My pussy, Sir.”

“Whose pussy?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s yours, Sir. I want you to fuck what belongs to you.”

He groans as he makes his way up your body and whispers “mine” into your neck. Both of you are breathing heavily when he asks you one last time what your safe word is. When you give him the right answer, he pushes his cock inside you to the hilt and smiles against your skin when you cry out. 

Instinctively, the overwhelming feeling of him inside you and the lack of control you have over your own body makes you want to close your legs, but he slams them open with his hands and thrusts into you over and over again at a pace you couldn’t believe was real. Each stroke brings you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you’re about to fall over that beautiful precipice he pulls out of you entirely. “You didn’t think I was going to let you come that quickly, did you?”

There are red marks on your thighs and you pray they’ll bloom into beautiful bruises by morning. “I thought so.”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to fuck you until you’re quaking and then when you beg sufficiently, I’ll allow it.”

This was everything you wanted. “Yes, Sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Now that you and Spencer had sealed the deal it was impossible to keep your hands off each other, but for the most part you stuck to the tamer side of the BDSM world and fell into a week-long stint of the most amazing vanilla sex in the world. Something told you he wanted more, but he hadn’t said anything yet so you decided to bring it up instead.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yea?” He reaches his arm around you and pulls you close as you both sink into the couch. Today is one of his days off, so you’ve done nothing all day. Somehow he sees the reservation in your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, continuing as you snuggle into him. “I was just thinking that...you’re more into this lifestyle than I am, so maybe we should have a discussion about soft limits and hard limits and that kind of thing.”

Spencer kisses the top of your head with a proud smile. “You’ve been researching.”

“I’m trying.”

“We can definitely have that discussion. How about turn-offs and absolute hard limits first?”

Leaning down, you lay your head in his lap and stare up at him, finding it almost impossible to keep your hands off the contours of his jaw. “You first,” he says. “What are absolute no’s for you?”

“I read about something called pet play,” you laugh. If someone wants to do it... “That’s a big no.”

He bends down to kiss your nose and laughs. “I’m with you there.”

“Branding is a no. Anything with feet. Nothing with my bodily fluids except come.”

He giggles at your frankness. You looked up a checklist a few days ago so you’d be prepared for this moment. “Yea, golden showers are not sexy.”

“Humiliation is something I’d have to experiment with because I feel like it’d be something where a line could be easily crossed into not sexy for me.”

One by one you go on, telling him the things that are just never going to happen - piercing, sensory deprivation, water torture, all way too fucking extreme for you. “I basically have the same no’s as you. The only other thing I can think of that I am not okay with is sharing you with another Dom in an unsupervised fashion.”

You hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh yea, no way, I could maybe be shared with someone else, but it’s a soft limit I think.”

Then you get into soft limits. At this point, Spencer doesn’t really have any of those; he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. “Alright, so tell me soft limits and things you definitely want to try,” he says softly. He stares down at you with an admiration you could never get enough of.

“I definitely want to try anal play and spanking.” Immediately, you feel his cock twitch underneath you and can tell he’s pictured it at least a thousand times. “You like the spanking idea?”

Spencer reaches down and cups your ass in his hands. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined giving you a cherry red ass.”  
You blush and hide your head in his lap but he turns your head up toward him. “Do you want that? You want me to spank you? This can be part of the humiliation kink, me making you admit what you want.”

Okay, this part you can easily be into. “I definitely want you to spank me.”

“What about with things?” He asks.

Paddles and canes are soft limits. He likes them both, but neither are deal breakers for him if you end up not being into them.

One thing you want more than anything is a physical representation of his control. “I want to wear a collar. Either in the house or out depending on what it looks like.”

“Mine,” he growls, gently pulling you up by your hair to bite down on your lip. “All mine.”

You nod your head and grind yourself against his straining erection. “I also want to try double penetration, with or without another actual person. And suspension play. And I wanna play with ice and wax. And cuffs, definitely cuffs. And, ummm...ball gags and nipple play, both yeses. Let’s see, what else.”

“You keep talking like this I’m going to fuck your brains out right here and now,” he says, breaths heavy, pupils dilated. 

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent? Oh, also phone sex and orgasm denial, like...orgasm denial...I need it. And choking on your cock. I need that too.”

Spencer pulls away from the kiss with a mischievous look in his eyes. “You’re going to regret that.”

And now you’re instantly soaking wet.

“Public sex too, but not super public unless it’s at a special club. I think that’s all I can think of. What about you? Is there something I didn’t say that you’d want me to try?”

Slowly, he lifts your shirt up over your head and unzips your jeans. “Three things, I like it when a woman grinds against my shoe and then cleans it off with her tongue.”

“Oh fuck.” You never thought of that, but the idea of looking up at Spencer while your grind against his shoes is drenching your panties. “Okay, soft limit. Again, I feel like a line could be crossed. What are the other things?”

“Human furniture and nonconsensual role play.”

“Soft limits. Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he says, smiling against your neck. “Now strip for me and kneel on the couch. I’m about to get the landlord called on us.”

The night you walked into the bar you never imagined where you were now, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.


	3. Chapter 3

Instructions are clear. You get home before he does, so you’re instructed to put on the lingerie he requested, a pastel pink teddy and matching boy shorts, and wait for him at the door. 

Every second that passes feels like an eternity and at some point you realize that he should be home already. You wonder if he’s making you wait on purpose...upping the anticipation. If that is what he’s doing, it’s working.

Finally, he takes mercy on you. Spencer walks through the door and doesn’t make eye contact, slipping his finger through the knot of his tie and pulling it loose. He places it on the counter before he sits down in his favorite chair.

You’d been given specific instructions the day before and for a moment you forget yourself. By the strain in his pants and the subtle ticks of his muscles you can tell he wants to take you all in, but this was what you both wanted. 

Slowly but surely, you crawl toward him, following the shine of the dress shoes he wore to work this morning. When you finally touch him, resting your hands on his knee, a peace flows through you. Being here, before him, doing something that makes him happy...it makes you happy too. Before him, you never thought of being a submissive. But now you couldn’t imagine this not being just another facet of your being.

Your pussy throbs as you begin to grind on the smooth leather and you look up at Spencer, silently begging for him to look at you but he doesn’t, reaching instead for the book he was reading the night before.

With each back and forth swipe of your folds against his shoe you feel something new. His shoes aren’t entirely smooth; the bumps press against your clit, the sides that slope toward the floor provide a different pressure, the tip of his shoe gives you a little bit of both, but none of it is enough and you reach between your legs to touch yourself when he reprimands you.

“Did i give you permission to touch what’s mine?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I want to come, Sir. And I need more.”

“You were given clear instructions. Follow them.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

As he continues to read his book, paying you no mind, your movements become more frenzied. While before each move was calculated and precise, now they’re desperate and your hips thrust against his shoe with a speed you didn’t think was possible in this position. “My, my, you are desperate to come, aren’t you?” He laughs, almost condescendingly. Why is this hot? The way he talks to you? You don’t know, but it is.

Nodding, you push down even harder and finally feel your orgasm cresting when you ask him to come, but he tells you no. “I’m going to put a timer on my phone. Five minutes. If you continue at this pace and don’t come, I’ll allow it. If you do we’ll experiment with some spanking for punishment.”

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t considering breaking the rules just to feel the sting of his hand, but you wanted to please him, so you continued fucking his shoe and staring directly at him without coming.

Five minutes later, he allows you to come with no ceremony whatsoever and you cry out, a tear falling from your eye and onto his pant leg. He wipes it away with the pad of his thumb and gives you the chastest of kisses atop your head. This is what it’s all about - this feeling of admiration and serenity and pleasure.

Quickly, he takes a peek at his shoe and scoffs. “Clean it,” he says, his voice crisp and curt as he cups your face in his hands. “When you’re done, if you’ve done a sufficient job. I will order us dinner, draw you a bath and we’ll cuddle on the couch all night.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Dipping your head down, you feel the leftover arousal dipping down your thigh. This should be embarrassing, so embarrassing as to be turn-off, but it’s not. On your hands and knees, you lick at the tip of his boot and taste yourself. Despite what people say there’s no particular flavor, but the headiness of the act itself makes you moan.

“I think my little slut enjoys a bit of humiliation.”

You mumble in response and continue your given task, taking pride in getting his shoe as clean as possible when you feel his fingers comb through your hair and pull near the root. The sharp pain sends a shockwave through your body and instantly you have another kink. Spencer knows exactly what he’s doing. “Is that clean enough, Sir?” You whisper, lips glistening with arousal. 

He checks and says no, forcing you to return to your task but this time with the occasional tug on hair. You could stay here forever, washed over with pleasure and bits of pain, at his feet, for all time. There’s no way you’d ever get enough of it. 

After what feels like the most instantaneous eternity, he pulls you up one last time and smiles proudly as he glances between you and his shoe. “That might be even cleaner than when I left the house this morning,” he says softly, his words dancing over your body. 

“Did I do a good job, Sir?”

“A wonderful job.” He kisses you softly, his tongue coasting across your lips to taste you. “Now, how about a bath and dinner for my good girl?”

Nodding happily, you squeal as he stands and picks you up bridal style in one fell swoop. His good girl.

His.


	4. Chapter 4

Week after week went by with Spencer in and out of the apartment on cases. You went back to your own apartment more often than you wanted to purposely because being there without him felt so wrong. You needed him. And not just in the “I-wanna-ride-you-until-the-sun-comes-up” kind of way, but the “I-wanna-fall-asleep-on-your-shoulder” kind of way. 

After he got out of prison, he approached work in a different way, more calculated and careful - somewhat less emotional - so being away was difficult for him too. He showed his emotion with you, and having to go in and out on cases without you by his side threw him for a loop as much as it did you.

You had a few fights, more out of frustration stemming from being apart than anything else, so you formulated a plan to give you both what you needed. You needed structure and someone to answer to. He needed to feel needed and to have control he lacked in his work life. 

Every morning when he was away, you were instructed to shower and brush your teeth before anything else. After you got out of the shower, you were supposed to show him two outfits, down to the lingerie, and he’d pick your outfit for the day. Then you could grab coffee on the way to work. During the day, you would text him every few hours just to say hi even if he wasn’t able to answer. 

At night, he would call, even if he was tired. Even if the call was only five minutes it was better than not hearing him at all. On your most restless days, only his voice would soothe you to sleep. He would describe what he would do if he was there down to the last detail. The picture he usually painted was picking you up from the couch and laying you gently onto the light blue down comforter before climbing in himself and gathering you to his side. He would run his fingers through your hair and massage your scalp, reciting poetry from memory until you fell asleep on his shoulder. 

Tonight is different though. You need him and he needs you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice thick with lust. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Spencer.” Your hands slides down into your panties, the ones he picked out for you this morning, his absence is sorely felt. “I’m okay with the rules, but not having you here is torture right now. I wanna jump your bones.”

Spencer chuckles on the other end of the line and suggests switching to FaceTime. It’s been a long day and he’s tired, but the case is over and he’ll be home in the morning. Emily’s also making sure that another team is called in for the rest of the week so the BAU can have some time to breathe. “Have you edged yourself today like I asked?”

Just hearing him say edge makes your legs clench. “Of course, I did. It took everything in me not to come but I didn’t. Can you please be home now? I need you to fuck my brains out.”

Laughing, he pulls off his tie and peels his coat off his lean but muscled arms. Control is so lacking in his job, especially after prison. He’s vulnerable at work, but at home, with you, he knows what he wants and can choose to be vulnerable. “How about I let you have some relief?”

That catches your attention in an instant and your eyes go wide. “What do you have in mind, Sir?”

“I’ll let you touch my pussy, as long as you allow yourself to moan, loudly, no stifling it like you normally do, and face that pretty pussy toward the camera.”

You feel your face blush at the frankness of his words. Heat washes over you like a blanket and although you normally don’t ask for things in return, you can’t help yourself. “Will you touch yourself too, Sir?”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

God, you want him to be home. 

Slowly, you hook your fingers into your pajama pants and panties and peel them down your legs, tossing them unceremoniously to the side as you turn your pussy toward the camera. “Maybe I begin touching myself, Sir?”

“Good girl for asking. Yes, you may.”

This is what you love about him. Well, one of the things. The way he has you trembling and on edge with nothing more than a few words and some carefully removed clothing. Your fingers dip into your pussy and curl upward, the pressure of your palm sending small waves of electricity through your clit. “Sir,” you whisper without even realizing it.

“So close already?” His breath hitches toward the end of the question. You can tell it won’t take much for either of you to fall over the edge.

His lack of touch and the edging he’s had you indulge in over the past couple weeks leaves you at a loss for words. Instead, you get lost in the soft hitches in his breath and the low groans he tries to stifle, undoubtedly from his teammates in nearby rooms. 

“Fuck, Sir.”

“What are you imagining?”

“Your fingers inside me, Sir. I miss your fingers. Mine aren’t the same.” They aren’t. You’re desperate and will come quickly and powerfully, but you give into desperation. Spencer plays with it like a violin and your moans are the ensuing symphony. “Please, Sir. Can I come?”

“Not yet.”

You hold back a groan of frustration and keep going, removing your fingers and sliding them up and down your folds and over your clit. As the increasing pressure and the sounds of his moans and the wetness between your thighs has you groaning and crying out within a few minutes. “Please, Sir. Can I come now?”

It takes him a second to answer, but he chokes out a yes through his own orgasm and you cry out his name, curling into yourself as your body trembles. When the shaking subsides, you lift up your head, the heaviness of your orgasm weighing you down and see him cleaning up his hands of the mess he made. “How do you feel now, sweetheart?”

“Better,” you say truthfully, continuing, “but you do something special to me.”

“I’ll be home tomorrow, love.”

Sleepily, you turn to face him, not caring that your arousal is dripping onto the sheets below. “What time does your flight get in?”

“9 AM. I’ll be home by 9:30-10. When I walk through the door, I want you to be waiting for me on the bed, no clothes and ready for an afternoon of the slowest most sensual sex you’ve ever experienced. I’ve missed you so much. I just need you close.”

“You have me.”

He does have you - mind, body and soul.


	5. Chapter 5

Unfortunately, Spencer’s job keeps him away more often than you want, but you fall into a routine that works for your both. When he is home, it’s less about exploring the lifestyle and more about just being with each other. You want to delve into new things a bit more when he comes home, just because everything you’ve tried up until now has been amazing, but it’s all new for you, so Spencer insists on having more time to relax and experiment. But now the time has finally come to try something you’d never considered before him.

Spencer cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead, that now familiar and intoxicating warmth spreading over you. “Be a good girl, go inside and strip and place the blindfold around your head. I’ll make sure it’s tight enough when I come in.”

Stepping on your tip toes, you kiss him quickly before bounding happily into the bedroom, where you strip quicker than you ever have before. You’ve been waiting for the day you and Spencer would have enough time to do this. From the bedroom, you hear his voice loud and crisp and clear. “You know the main aim of playing with temperature is to provoke arousal by using the skin’s neuroreceptors. Stimulation through cold, or heat,” he says with a hint of possibility, “gives the body a rush of sensations that translate into arousal. It’s especially effective when they’re used in tandem or in unpredictable patterns.”

Always info-dumping. Another reason you love him.

You hear the sound of running water and the microwave and are further intrigued. It isn’t something you’d discussed previously, but you trust Spencer with every fiber of your body and you’re ready for anything he has in store. 

As you turn the lights low and slip onto the smooth and almost silky sheets, you hear his footsteps coming closer and closer. Quickly, you pull the blindfold out from the nightstand and tie it around your head. “Ready, Princess?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Just his deliberate and measured movements are enough to heighten your senses. “What’s the safe word?” He asks every time you embark on a new sexy journey. 

“Red, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Anticipation rolls through your blood like a freight train and after what feels like hours you almost want to beg for him to end your suffering, to stop teasing, but you know that will only push him in the opposite direction so you stay silent. You can practically feel his satisfaction as you squirm against the bed. You wonder if your body is blushing as much as you believe it is. Finally, a drop of ice cold water touches your stomach and slowly drips toward your belly button. 

“Like that, love?”

“Yes, Sir. More please.”

“You’re such a good girl. Very polite, as good girls should be.”

Without having to ask, he starts painting you like a canvas. He traces the ice along your stomach, stopping just above where you want it most and moves it toward your neck, pressing heated kisses in your frozen skin. As he creates a gentle suction at the pulse point on your neck, he presses the ice cube against your nipple and holds it in place. “Oh my god! Fuck, Spencer!”

Immediately, he pulls it away. “What was that?”

“Sir! Sorry, Sir. I meant Sir.”

Satisfied, he places the melting cube against your other nipple and checks between your thighs, finding you wet and ready after only a few minutes of play. He places the remainder of the cube in your mouth before grabbing another and laying it in the hollow of your neck, right on your throat. “Hold that there, love. I have to grab something.”

The room smells heady and full of promise as the ice cube melts slowly, leaving a puddle in its wake. You think you hear a condom opening and pray that he isn’t going to stop with the teasing so soon. But you shouldn’t have doubted him even for a second as he returns with an ice cube inside a condom, which he presses into you and lets sit there. 

“Oh fuck, Sir,” you breathe, instinctively trying to close your legs. He playfully smacks your thigh and demands you keep them open so he can watch your arousal pool beneath you. 

“Quiet, love. Take it all in.”

As the cube melts inside you, Spencer paints your body like a canvas again before abruptly removing the ice cube and pressing something else to against your clit. It’s warm and you can’t place what it is until he slips it inside you - a warmed up glass dildo. It slides in and out with ease and although you can’t see him, you know Spencer is smiling, satisfied with himself for bringing out the sounds he wanted to hear. 

He hasn’t given you permission to make noise, so you stifle the moans that threaten to erupt from your body. Somehow he keeps the pace going, the slick glass filling you and stretching you as he teases each nipple with ice cube after ice cube. 

You sense him stand up and suddenly his whispering in your ear. “You can make noise.”

Oh thank God.

Turning your head, you try in futility to groan into a pillow, but it’s nowhere to be found. Instead, you let a cry emanate from between your lips and croak out your question. “Can I come, Sir?”

“Not yet. How close are you, love?”

“So close, Sir.”

“When will you come?”

“When you say I can, Sir.”

“Exactly. And why is that?” It takes a few moments for you to form a proper sentence. His pace is relentless. You’re hot and cold at the same time - nerves on fire. 

“Be...because I don’t get to decide.”

“Why?”

“Because my body is yours.”

“Good girl. I’m going to remove the ice and grab something. When I return, you are allowed to come.” He stood up and walked toward the dresser but left the drenched dildo sitting inside you.

You nearly came on the spot, but you held back and heard his hand dip into the ice bucket he’d brought into the room. Every sound, every scent, every touch felt more amplified. 

Before you could form another complete thought, the glass inside you began to move again and you felt his lips create a gentle suction around your clit, but he had an ice cube in his mouth. One more time, you asked him permission for release and he mumbled a yes into you, causing you to cry out in an instant. “Fuck, Sir! Oh my god! Holy shit! Holy fuck!”

Spencer chuckles against you and swipes his tongue up your slit, tasting your release and reveling in the feel of it - the feel of so much control. “How was that, Princess?” He asked, pressing a satisfied kiss into your inner thigh. 

“Amazing, Sir. Was it everything you wanted too? Can I try that on you one day?”

You felt a dip in the bed, the blindfold was lifted and you were met with his gorgeous hazel almost brown eyes. “More than what I imagined. I’ve never had someone so pliant and open before. This is everything I needed.”

“What do you want to do now, Sir?”

“How about a bubble bath? Just you and me.”

If that didn’t sound like the best nightcap ever. “Yes, please.”


	6. Chapter 6

You’re cooking dinner together and he’s being all cute with you, but all that’s doing for you is heightening the need for a spanking of epic proportions. You don’t want to purposely break rules, because that’s not what a submissive should do, but you keep sticking your ass out in the hopes that Spencer will decide he can’t take anymore.

Spencer had asked if you wanted to trying spanking a few weeks ago and you’d practically jumped over his knee, but since last week when he’d been on a case, your entire body, but especially your booty, had felt a little neglected. 

As you bend over to take the chicken out of the oven, you wiggle your booty in his direction, smiling when you finally hear him stifle a moan. “Do you like my ass, Sir?”

“Yes, baby girl. So much.” Whether he speaks to you or about you to others, there is a pride and reverence in his voice that you can’t live without - even more so than the amazing sex. He continues, voice low and dripping with barely-restrained need. “And I know what you want, but good girls ask for what they want.”

Immediately, your pussy begins to tingle. It takes so little, yet it means everything. You saunter toward him and slip your hand underneath the hem of his shirt. “Sir, I really want to try the paddling. I know you said you didn’t want to rush things because that’s a step up from your hand, but I really think I can take it. I want to. For me and you. Please?”

Each word that falls from your lips causes him to stand at attention, his cock straining against the giving confines of his flannel pajama pants. “How about this,” he says, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “We try them in fives. You count each one out and after five we take a five minute break. If you feel up to another five, we will, and so on. Sound good?”

Your face turns red hot, but you manage a nod and trail happily behind him as he walks toward the bedroom. When he dips into the chest in his closet, you sit on the bed, practically bouncing with glee while you wait for him to bring out the paddle you’d seen a couple weeks ago. 

With a click of his tongue, you can tell he finds what he’s looking for before turning around, a delicious glint in his hazel eyes. “Stand up.”

He smiles at your eagerness as you shoot up from the bed, taking a seat where you’d just been. “One more rule,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing you close, “You can’t cover your ass with your hands. If you do, you will be punished.”  
“How?” Normally, when he threatens punishment it’s a spanking, but you don’t he’d use it that way in this situation. 

Without missing a beat, he playfully pinches your nipple and whispers, “I won’t touch you at all tomorrow and make you edge yourself. Now, over my knee.”

Biting you lip, you jokingly dive into his lap, gently kicking your legs as he laughs. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, baby girl. In a very submissive mood tonight, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Sir. I wanna be your good girl.”

“If you take these five hits and call them out, and answer me in specifics when I ask, I’ll show you just what a good girl you are.”  
Before you can say anything else, thank him again, he rests his palm on the small of your pack, fingertips playing at the hem of your own pajama pants. He teases, slipping his fingers underneath for a moment only to pull away and leave your skin heated and begging. “Are you wet, baby girl?”

“Yes, Sir. Your pussy is very wet.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I like pain, Sir. But only when it’s you on the other end.”

After what feels like an eternity, he hooks one finger in the middle of your pants and pulls them down, allowing them to unceremoniously fall down around your ankles. Your instinct is to push them off, but something tells you Spencer wants them just where they are. 

With the smooth side of the paddle, he slides over the roundness of your ass and slips a finger up your pussy, taking it into his mouth and groaning. You can feel how much he wants to do this and the way your back arches up is evidence enough that you want this more than anything in this moment, but he waits, sliding the paddle over you again and again. 

Whimpering, you nip at your arm in an attempt to keep quiet and Spencer finally stops teasing you - and you’re not sure whether you’re grateful or a little disappointed. “Call each one out. Clearly.”

“One!” You cry it out when the paddle hits your skin. The pain is sharp, more intense than his hand, but it quickly fades. The next two come in quick succession and you do as he instructs, naming each one - each hit until he tells you what a good little girl you are. 

When the fourth one hits, it’s harder than before. He’s upping the ante. “Four! Thank you, Sir.” More than anything, you want to grind your pussy on his knee, but he wants you to be totally in this, so you stifle the need. 

“Do you know how beautiful your ass looks when it’s pink and marked by me?” He whispers into your ear. It’s a good thing you aren’t standing because your body is jelly. 

A shake of your head is all you can muster. “When we’re done, I’m going to take a picture for you so you can see just how beautiful you are. One more.” Five is over in an instant and you know you want more. 

As he rubs your ass with his hand, he tells you how proud he is of you and all you can do is melt. “I love making you proud, Sir.”

“Do you want another five?”

“Please, Sir.”

His cock twitches underneath you, clearly happy with your reaction. In a lazy bathtub conversation after your first spanking, he admitted how much spanking is a turn on for him. Given his line of work, he’s not into truly overt pain play, but spanking is perfect and he was secretly hoping you’d love it as much as he did. 

At first, you think he is going to tease you again, but he doesn’t, smacking each ass cheek twice in less than 30 seconds. You call all for out and wait for the last one, knowing it will be the hardest of all. “Five!” You yell. “Oh fuck, Sir.”

“Another five?”

“No, Sir. I think I’m good for tonight.”

Turning your head toward him, he praises your ability to know your limits. “So it seems you like paddling...we can do that again?”

“Yes, Sir. Absolutely.”

He instructs you to stand up and out of your pajama pants before lying face down on the bed. First, he takes a picture of your reddened ass and passes you the phone to admire his handiwork before grabbing some aloe for your stinging skin. “I like the way it looks,” you say shyly, hiding your smile in the crook of your arm. 

Spencer crouches down and meets your gaze. “Say it to me.”

“I like the way my ass looks when you spank it.”

“Good girl.” Climbing on the bed, he squirts some of the aloe into his hand and massages it into you. “Should we eat dinner now?”

“How about naked on the couch?”

He laughs. “I think that can be arranged. Wait right here.”

Outside, you can hear him putting plates together and getting the TV ready. “I’m putting the soft blanket under you for a little cushion. Sitting will sting.”

Goosebumps covered your body at the thought; the sting would be a reminder. When he returns, he pulls your shirt over your head and lifts you into his arms, lingering in the doorway for a moment. “What is it? You okay?” You ask.

Spencer leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, pulling him in for a kiss. “It feels like I’ve loved you forever.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first five hurt more than anything that ever hurt before, but you revel in it so you ask for another five. Five more strikes with the cane, but as nine strikes your skin the pain is overwhelming. “Red!”

Spencer drops the cane to the floor and crouches at your side, cradling your face in his hands. “Are you okay?” Before his eyes had been filled with confidence, determination, arousal, but now they’re filled with fear. Fear that he’d gone to far and truly hurt you. The truth is that you took a few extra hits to impress him. You failed as a submissive.

“I’m okay. Just…that last one put me over the top.”

He kisses you and stands up to grab you carefully, placing you down on the bed before grabbing some lotion. When you move, you wince, the pain truly showing itself. You should not have let it go that far. 

Determined, Spencer glides back and forth across the room, looking for everything he’ll need to take care of your very sore bottom. There’s the pain of an initial strike and then the pain that blooms after nerve endings that were compressed before return to normal. It’s white hot. And while it was enjoyable for the first five, you’d overestimated your tolerance on the last five. 

You feel Spencer sit on the mattress, your body dipping toward his. He carefully applies an antibiotic cream to areas on both cheeks that you assume are slight cuts or abrasions. When he lays an ice pack across your ass, you hiss at the sting, but after a few seconds it eases, feeling so much better. Spencer lies down beside you and grazes his hand through your hair. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Did you do that on purpose? Take more than you thought you could?”

Ashamedly, you nodded. “The first five were great and I underestimated what the next five would do. I thought I could take it. And I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I should’ve realized what you were doing and –“

“It’s on me, too, Spence. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Okay, only five at a time from now on.”

You sidle up against him, arm around his waist and head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he tells you how to care for your bottom over the next few days. “You have to ice on and off over the course of the next 24 to 48 hours. Fifteen minutes at a time. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” you say sleepily, mind numb and loopy and happy, free of anything but the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. “And Tylenol for pain, no ibuprofen because that can prolong bleeding.”

“Good girl.” He floats his hand across the small of your back as he continues. “You’ve heard of subdrop right?”

“The concept yes, but I’m not sure of what it is exactly.”

Cradling your face, he ensures he has your attention as he describes what it is and how it can manifest. “It doesn’t always happen. You may never experience it, but I want you to know what it is just in case it does happen.” Apparently, subdrop involves your body releasing all sorts of endorphins and enkephalins. They make you feel like your pain tolerance is higher and can have an almost morphine-like effect on you. “The thing is that all that happy endorphins come out all at once during a scene like that and typically they trickle out over the course of a day with little bursts during exercise or something like that. You can only replace those endorphins at a normal rate, so that in between time can feel like a drug withdrawal without the drugs.”

“Oh, wow,” you reply, stunned. You smile into his chest while he continues info-dumping about the side effects – tired, feelings of loneliness and insecurity, mental exhaustion, possible tremors, bruising. “So I shouldn’t sit a lot tomorrow if I can help it?”

“Yea, you’ll feel that tomorrow, not like a normal spanking, and that pain will exhaust you over time because your body spent all those happy hormones and can’t replace them fast enough. The worst symptoms are the emotional ones though,” he says, gathering you into his arms and lifting you onto him so your skin is flush with his. “That lack of hormones can make you feel abandoned or depressed or unloved. And I never want you to feel that way, so if something happens, please text me or call me and as soon as I can reply, I will, and I’ll help you through it. It can hit you like a ton of bricks during the most innocuous tasks, so just really keep aware of how you’re feeling.”

It sounds like a lot – though it’s a possibility, not a given. Even so, the possibility is worth it for the intense pleasure you experience at his hands. “I love you, Spence.”

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I think I might pass out.”

“Me too.” You fall asleep in seconds, a satisfied smile across your face.

\----

Spencer has to leave for work the next day and at first it’s no big deal. You go about your day just as you normally would when it hits you – that bone deep feeling of insecurity. Why would he want to stay with you when he couldn’t do all the things he wanted to do with you? Were you being selfish for staying with him? Not allowing him to find someone that fit with him perfectly? Your heart begins to race, thumping so hard against your ribcage that you’re afraid it might burst it. 

Swallowing hard, you grasp your specialty coffee from the barista – a peppermint mocha – but the sweet taste you wanted is now bitter. You’ve heard of people saying they can “taste” certain emotions because they’re so powerful, but before this moment you hadn’t understood what that meant. But now you know. This is fear.

\----

You attempt a walk in the park to calm yourself down, but all it does is allow your mind time to wander, so instead of watching the couple in front of you walk hand in hand, laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world, you head back to the apartment and wrap up in a blanket.   
Spencer says he loves you. He wouldn’t lie. You have to hear his voice. Pulling out your phone, you ask him to call you as soon as he can. 

 - I’m not feeling great, Spence. Really…alone.

You place the phone back in your pocket and wrap the blanket tighter around yourself as you curl into the couch. Slowly, your eyes close and the voices get louder - the ones that tell you you’re not good enough, the ones that convince you Spencer’s going to dump you the moment he finds someone better. 

It felt like seconds later, but apparently it was nearly an hour when the phone buzzing startles you awake. “Hello?” You ask sleepily, not bothering to check who’s calling. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” He sounds terrified. You’ve never heard him like that before. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I just…I was grabbing coffee today and I got this feeling. Like you didn’t really love me. That you’d dump me when you found someone better. I went for a walk to try and clear my head but that only made it worse and then I remembered you telling me to call you or text you if I felt that way, so-“

“Breathe,” he interrupted. “I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved before. I’m in my hotel room for the night. I’ll stay here and say it over and over again if that’s what you need.”

Smiling to yourself, you shiver a bit, the insecurity still there in waves despite his affirmations. “I wish you were here.”

“I do too,” he says sincerely. “Next time we want to experiment with something we haven’t done before, it needs to be when I don’t have to go to work the next day.” 

“Yea,” you sigh. 

“Hey, why don’t you go into my closet? Right side in the back.”

Without much thought you get up and meander toward Spencer’s room. “Why?”

“I have something in there for you.”

Bending down, you push a few items of clothing to the side – a pair of pants that fell from a hanger, a random dress shoe – and there sits a box that says ‘in case of emergency’ with a little heart next to it. “What’s this?”

“Open it.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

Inside is a Disney movie, Moana, one of your favorites, a box of macaroons from a local store Spencer had taken you to before, some lavender oil and a piece of folded up paper with ‘For the Woman I Love’ written on it. “Now go put in the movie, sit on the couch, eat some chocolate and read the letter to me.”

You do exactly as he says, popping an entire chocolate into your mouth as you unfold the letter. 

“Read it out loud. It’ll sink in more that way.”

~I hope that you’ll never have to read this and that I’ll just be able to say it all myself, but if not, here it is. After prison, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same. It kind of felt like my heart had been strangled to death. I moved through life in a different way. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to let someone in. And then I saw you and I just knew. You had my heart. It was hiding with you all along. 

Our dynamic is amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in that aspect of a relationship, but apart from that you’re still everything I need. My confidant. My best friend. My happiness.

I love you. You’re everything to me.~

“Spence,” you whisper as you wipe a tear from your eye. “I love you, too. So much. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon and tonight I’ll stay on the line until you fall asleep.”

The waves of insecurity from before fade further and further away as you sink back into the couch and start singing. Maybe those feelings of un-lovability will linger for a while, but with Spencer on the other line at least you won’t have to fight them alone.


	8. Chapter 8

“Please, please, please!” You ask, hopping up and down before plopping into his lap with a mischievous smile. 

Spencer pulls you in for a kiss, running his hand up the length of your leg, his touch feather light against your skin. Smiling, he presses kisses down your neck. “Believe me, love. That is not something you have to beg for. You took your birth control today?”

“Yes, Sir,” you say, nodding rigorously. “Does that mean yes?”

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

You squirm happily in his lap, maneuvering yourself so that you’re straddling him. “Oh, and can I be on top, please?”

“Very demanding today,” he chides playfully. 

You shake your head, nose touching his just ever so slightly. “No, not at all, Sir. Never demanding, just...pleading. I know much you like it when I beg.”

The growing bulge in his flannel pajama pants answers your statement before he says a thing. “That I do, baby girl. You don’t need to ask for permission today at all. Just take what you want.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

You dip your lips to his and pull him in for a kiss, molding your bodies together as he lifts his hips up and shimmies out of his pants. When he springs free of his boxers, you bite your lip at the sight of his cock dripping with pre-cum and gracefully slip to the floor, taking him in your mouth. For weeks now, Spencer has been helping you train your throat to take more and more of him. Fucking your face is a fantasy of his and you’ll do anything to please him. You’re not there yet - able to take all of him - but you’re getting there.

You smile at the salty tang of him and take the head of his cock in your mouth, moving down slowly, focusing on your breathing as he slides down your throat. “Good girl,” he hissed, grasping your head and pushing you down just a little more. “We’re almost there.”

For a moment, you hold there, looking up into his adoring eyes. The adoration makes you gooey inside, smiley and happy and complete. You add your hands into the mix and stroke up and down as your mouth follows suit, occasionally gagging on his length but not caring. 

When you can’t take the throbbing in your pussy anymore, you stand up and remove your pajamas, sliding into his lap and onto his cock with smooth movements. “I love you, Sir.”

Despite his position underneath you, the second his hands slide up the sides of your neck, you remember who you belong to and the feeling is everything. “I love you. Take what you need, baby girl.” His right hand comes to wrap around your neck. There’s next to no pressure, but the gesture is everything you need to get the desperation churning in your stomach. 

In the middle of the laziest of Sundays, the world stops as you grind against him, rolling your hips back and forth without thought for grace - wanting dirty and needy. “Sir, I want you to come inside me. I need to feel it,” you whine softly. The thought of having no barrier between you and him had been filling your fantasies for weeks. No matter where you were - alone, at dinner with his friends, at dinner with his mom (oops) - you thought of him filling you up. 

By the deep-seated groans that seem to come from the depths of his being, it won’t be long until you have what you’ve been dreaming of. In your hastiness, you bury your head in the crook of his neck and become even more frenzied. “Oh my god, Sir. I’m going to come.”

“Not without looking at me, you aren’t.”

“Of course, Sir.” Your eyes mist over, the need building up inside you with seemingly nowhere to go. As your movements get more and more frenetic, every nerve in your body stings with an almost delicious staticky feeling - it consumes you, from your toes to your teeth. “Fuck!” You cry out as you come, shaking uncontrollably in his lap as he pulls you to him and begins thrusting upward, his own release so attainable yet so far away. “Please, I want to feel it, Sir. Please come inside me. Please, please, please.”

His lips rake up the side of your neck, your taste and your voice taking him to a place of need and vulnerability and he didn’t show often. “Thrust down. Take it.”

As the waves of another orgasm crest, he comes inside you, thick spurts of his seed coating your insides. “Oh fuck, Spence. Oh my god. I-” You slow your thrusts and remove yourself from him, focusing on the heat that’s filling you up. Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you taste the combination of the two of you and smile. “That was everything I ever fantasized about.”

“Good, I-. I mean-. Fuck, that was-”

“I hope the end of these sentences are good,” you giggle. He looks thoroughly fucked and you couldn’t be happier.

He smiles, “astounding.”


	9. Chapter 9

When you asked Spencer about his day before, you didn’t think it would end up here. On the couch. With your hand between your legs. While Spencer regales you with the tale of how he arrested an unsub today.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks cheekily as he turns around from the refrigerator.

“I didn’t realize I had,” you say. “Sorry, Sir.”

As he returns to his story, eyes never leaving yours, you slide two fingers up and down your slit, listening intently to the sound of his voice. It’s like silk, washing over you in waves. His gaze like daggers, sharp and piercing.

“He tried running out of the office, but I clotheslined him and then smashed him against the wall and handcuffed him.”

You dip your fingers into your seething heat and moan, mouth agape. “If you don’t close that mouth, I’m going to fuck it,” he says with a smile. In response, you open your mouth wider and stick your tongue out, inviting him to make good on his threat. “Little girl, you’re going to get your throat fucked if you don’t close that mouth right now.”

“Is that supposed to deter me, Sir?”

He growled and stormed across the room, his predatory grin making you giggle. “If you’re going to be a tease, you’ll get treated like one. On your back with your head over the armrest. Now.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

When you giddily assume the position, Spencer bends down and kisses your forehead before roughly pulling your shirt over your head and hurling it behind him. His hand curls up the side of your face and around your neck. “Let’s see if all that throat training has paid off.”

Biting your lip, you slip your hand between your legs and received a sharp slap to your hand. “I did not tell you that you could touch what was mine.”

“Sorry, Sir,” you reply, swallowing hard.

He rests his head against yours and slides his hands up the side of your neck, fingertips ghosting over your skin before cupping your breasts, one in each hand. Without a word, he pinches each nipple, hard, and makes you cry out, hips bucking into the air. “How would you like a little pain this evening?” He asks. The glint in his eye is wicked. You wanted it anyway. But even if you hadn’t, you would’ve just for him - to watch the smile spread across his features. “No touching. Or I won’t touch you for a week.”

You nod enthusiastically, not wanting to think about his hands not slipping into and over you for seven whole days. 

With your consent apparent, he begins squeezing your nipples in time with the metronome he’d been playing with on the counter earlier in the evening. Each tweak of your sensitive buds makes your arousal pool beneath you. You can’t wait for Spencer to force you to clean it up. “Why does this turn you on so much, little girl?”

“Because I’m a slut, Sir.” You smile. Not just any slut.

“Whose?”

“Yours, Sir. Always yours.”

As he increases the pressure, you fight the desperation to add your hands to the mix, instead bucking into the air above you in search of something. “Please, Sir.”

“Please, what? You know how I feel about you using your words.”

“Can I suck your cock, Sir? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Have you?” He asks, his stark smile bringing more attention to his already chiseled jawline. “Tell me about it.” His tone indicates that it’s not up for debate. 

Your body undulated into the cool air of the apartment. It hit your heated skin, causing goosebumps to form in the wake of the breeze. “I was sitting at my desk and all I could think about was unzipping your pants and taking you into my mouth. I dreamt about it for nearly ten minutes before I realized I hadn’t done anything that entire time.”

“Well then, I wouldn’t dare deny you,” he replies, standing up and grabbing your hands.

Silently, he gives you permission to undo his pants and you manage, though it’s clumsy and desperate and slow. Your inability to coordinate your movements in this position makes him happy. Once his belt his undone and his fly is down, you tug at the material and let it fall down to the floor before grabbing at his cock like a cat with a new toy. “I want you, Sir.”

The strength of his gaze threatens to burn you from the inside out. “Open.”

You do so with an immediacy and ease that might scare you had you not trusted Spencer with your entire heart. As the head of his cock enters your waiting mouth, you groan around him, the vibrations causing Spencer to growl softly.

“Do you think you can take all of me today?” Spencer asks as his fingers caress your throat. The ragged edge in his voice betrays the tenderness with which he’s touching you.

You nod with him in your mouth, as you suck on the head. Oral was a weakness for Spencer and although you hadn’t been able to take as much of him as you wanted at the start, you’re getting better. Reaching back, you grab his ass and beckon him forward, opening your mouth wider at the same time.

As he slides into you, you focus your breathing, panicking slightly when he hits the back of your throat. “Breathe, love. I know you want this as much as I do.” You did. God, you did. You wanted him to bottom out in your throat and lose his mind. Despite the tension you could feel flowing through his body, he goes slowly as you swallow around him, inch by glorious inch stretching your throat to capacity.

Spencer groans when your throat finally takes him. Your eyes water, but you don’t care, pulling him closer until you gag around him and he pulls out, leaving you happy and messy. “I did it,” you say proudly.

He crouches down to cradle your face and kiss you. “That’s my good girl.” Again, he bottoms out and places his hand on your throat, telling you what a good girl you are and how he’s so proud of you. It’s better than the physical feeling of what he’s doing.

Slowly, he begins to pump into your mouth, tapping on your throat as he does so. “This is my cock. Right here.”

You laugh around him and fight the tightness building in your throat, your pussy practically grinding into the air above you in an attempt to find some physical fulfillment of your own.

“I think you deserve a reward.”

You whimper when he leans forward, his body still pumping into you as his fingers slip into you, sliding back and forth over your clit and into your embarrassingly soaked sex. Again, you feel his every muscle tighten and hollow your cheeks, hoping to receive more than just the prize of his hands on your body. Spencer seizes above you as he comes and you drink him down, milking the last of his reward with your mouth and hands. “So proud,” he says reverently.

He pulls out and you mewl, wanting more. More of what, you don’t care. He removes his hands and crouches down to meet your gaze again. “Touch yourself. Come for me while I watch.”

You don’t need to be told twice, reaching into your sex and pumping, faster and faster until you cry out into his mouth. He presses soft kisses all over your face as she come down from one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced and when you can finally formulate some semblance of a thought, you smile. “How’d I do, Sir?”

Spencer sits down on the couch beside you and gathers you close, both of you sweaty and sticky but not giving one fuck. “Amazing, love. So proud of you.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Wait, wait,” he says quickly, like the idea just came to him. “Let me pick your outfit.”

Blushing, you step aside and follow him into the bedroom, watching as he rummages through your half of the closet and the dresser drawers you moved your clothes into. Living together has been everything you ever wanted, minus the fact that he likes to throw his socks off and around the apartment without putting them in the laundry bin.

Once he finds what he’s looking for, Spencer lays out a green and black checkered miniskirt you bought on a whim weeks ago, as well as a dark green turtleneck sweater. “This. I’d like you to wear this,” he says softly before kissing your forehead and vacating the room. “I’ll be outside. I need to get something.”

You slip into the outfit he chose for you, something about the act feeling more intimate than you’d imagined. Maybe you’d ask him to do this more often. Although you haven’t left for your date yet, you know the dynamic has changed. “Sir? You didn’t pick shoes? What shoes would you like me to wear?”

“The flat sparkly black ones,” he calls back. “Thank for asking, love. I forgot.”

“And the lingerie I had on is okay?”

He hesitates for a moment and then says, “Yes, but instead of your panties, I vote for taking them off.”

“With this miniskirt?” You ask as you confront him in the hallway.

“Are you questioning me?”

Swallowing hard, you step forward, almost (keyword: almost) ashamed at how you clenched your thighs together. “No, Sir. Of course not, but-but the skirt is short and…” You trail off.

He steps toward you, imposing, his soft brown curls caressing your skin as he whispers in your ear. “I want easy access to what’s mine.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“One more thing.” He leads you to the kitchen table and beckons you to sit down, handing you a marker. “I want you to write ‘sir’s slut’ on your upper thigh, under the skirt.”

You bite your lip and pull up the hem of your skirt, reveling in the way the marker glides across your skin.

“Good girl.” He bends down and presses his finger to the waistband of the miniskirt, pulling it down an inch or so. “You make one addition. I make the other.” When you glance down, you see his hand combing over a patch of skin just above your pussy. He writes, ‘mine.’ Before he stands up, he kisses the words – his and yours. “Mine.”

He beams as he stands up. You have no idea what he’s planning for the rest of your day, but you’re enjoying the mystery. The little reminders of his ownership linger on your skin. An ownership you willingly give every single day because he deserves and needs it just as badly as you need him. “Ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

—

Arriving at the restaurant makes you feel seriously out of place. It’s a somewhat nice place, and you’re wearing a miniskirt and no panties. But if that’s the way Spencer wants it…

Without a word, he takes charge. Though his demeanor is slightly different. The change in his eyes in apparent. Somehow, he is able to effortlessly switch between the Spencer you know and love, the Dom you know and love, the brilliant agent and the regular take charge sweet boyfriend that most of the world sees.

The host seats you at a small table in the corner and Spencer pulls out your chair for you – ever the perfect gentleman. He sits right next to you and orders, the confidence and ease oozing out of him in a way that somehow still astounds you.

Once the waiter walks away, Spencer places his hand on your knee, slowly circling your kneecap with his pointer finger. You splay your legs wider, inviting him. “You shouldn’t tease me, little girl.”

“Not teasing, Sir,” you whispered, voice steady. “Just allowing you access to what’s yours.”

“Good girl.” His fingers slide slowly up your trembling thighs and grazed his palm over the label you’d written on yourself. “Whose slut are you?”

“Yours, Sir.”

You breathe deep as his fingers graze your bare pussy. If anyone passed the table right now, they’d be able to see all of you – how you quaked under his touch, the arousal coating his finger. He lifts it to your lips and you take it into your mouth, the heady taste of your arousal making you moan.

Before the waiter comes back, Spencer covers you again. Instead of leaving you be while you eat, he teases you. Not with his fingers, no, he fucks with your mind, insisting you eat with your skirt pulled up and legs cross under the table. “How does that feel, love? Being so exposed?”

“A bit embarrassing, Sir.”

“But?”

“But I kinda like it. It’s taboo. And dirty. I like being dirty for you.”

He kisses the side of your head before you both go back to eating and pay the bill. Spencer takes you for a walk in the park, teasing you over and over again about how he knows how wet you are. “Ready to go home?” He asks.

“Yes, Sir.”

On the drive home, you squirm uncontrollably, your body on fire. “Sir, when we get home-?”

“Absolutely.”

After he parks, he insists you walk up the stairs before him. He groans when he sees the arousal dripping down your inner thigh. “Oh, I can’t wait to have you screaming my name.”

“I don’t think that will take much tonight,” you laugh. “I’m a little on edge.”

“Just a little?”

“Okay, a lot,” you admit.

The minute the door is closed, he drops to his knees in front of you and pushes you skirt up around your waist. Spencer pins you against the wall and begins to devour you, his hand resting above the word he wrote as a resounding ‘mine’ emanates from between your quivering legs.


	11. Chapter 11

“Spence, are you sure they’re gonna like me? I feel like I wanna vomit,” you say earnestly. “I mean really pukey. What if they hate me?”

Spencer laughs softly and caresses your cheeks in his hands. They could be so soft and comforting one minute, and leaving red marks the next. You love the contrast. “They are going to love you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you,” he replies, placing a kiss on your forehead. “After prison, I never thought I could be content, let alone happy. And then I found you. And my friends noticed. All they want is for me to be happy and you make me happy. So they’ll love you. We’ll watch a movie. You and I will cook and at the end of the night they’ll love you like I do. Well…not exactly like I do. I don’t want to share.”

Blushing, you lean into him when you here a knock at the door. It’s an older man first. “You must be David,” you say, just a little too excitedly, like your mouth is a motor with an endless battery.

He nods and steps in the door, his free hand covering yours. “Y/N, we’ve all heard a lot about so there’s no need to be nervous.”

“You profiling me, David?”

“Can’t turn it off,” he laughs. “Is that pasta I’m smelling?”

You giggle and point back toward the kitchen. “Yea, we’ve made baked ziti and chicken parmesan and now we’re about to start making cookies.”

David raises his eyebrow at Spencer. “I like her. She cooks Italian. Marry her.”

“Planning on it,” he replies without missing a beat.

It takes you off guard, but you don’t have time to ruminate on it because there’s another knock at the door. In quick succession, you meet the Unit Chief Emily, who you’re pretty sure is the coolest person you’ve ever met, Penelope, who’s a fucking ray of sunshine, and Luke, one of the newer members of the team. You all get to talking, exchanging random pleasantries while you wait for Matt, Tara and JJ to show up. Finally, the gang’s all there. “Okay, please everyone dig in. We’ve made too much food.”

“We?” Spencer snickers. “I believe I said we could half the amount of food and still be fine.

You stick your tongue out at him and reply, “I only know how to cook for myself, two people or an army, there is no in between.”

After deciding on watching the first Jason Bourne movie, everyone takes a seat with plates piled high with food. “Alright, we’ll be back here making copious amounts of cookies, but the food is still here if you wanna come back for second and thirds, please do.”

Spencer flips the lights and the apartment starts to fill with the sounds of Jason Bourne punching the shit out of everything and the smells of delicious Italian and fresh-baked cookies.

You slip the second tray into the oven and decide to lean against the kitchen island, grasping glances of the movie in between the stirring of cookie batter. Spencer comes up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist, the tips of his fingers playing with the waistband of your jeans.

Craning your head toward him, you brush your lips against his cheek. “So you wanna marry me, Spencer Reid?”

“Yup. You wanna be Mrs. Reid?”

You giggle quietly and nod, smiling wide when his gaze meets yours. He’s happy. You make him happy. You’ve never done drugs before but you imagine this is what it feels like – this ability to make him smile despite it all. “I’ve got an idea,” he says softly, his supple lips pressing on the outer shell of your ear. His hand slips down into your panties, lithe fingers skating against soft skin. “Don’t make a sound.”

‘Are you insane’ ghosts like a phantom across your lips.

“Are you questioning me?” He whispers. His breath against your ear makes you shiver, and though you fear getting caught you also want to take his fingers and fuck yourself with them. He reads your mind of course, with his evil mind powers, or profiling whatever, but he manages, unzipping your jeans and slipping two fingers between your folds.

With his free hand, he grabs your own and glides it down to cover his. “Go ahead,” he says softly. “I know you want to. Just don’t alert the media.”

You bite your lip to suppress a giggle and a moan. It practically hurts to choke it back. Using your own hand, you massage his fingers into your slickness, putting pressure on your clit.

You’re about to grind against his hand when Matt gets up to indulge in some more food. Stilling your movements is harder than you imagine and you’re almost positive Matt knows something is happening, but as a father of four with a fifth on the way, he doesn’t say anything.

Once he’s seated again, you squeeze your legs around Spencer’s fingers. Although you’re glad to be meeting his friends, you also kind of wish they weren’t here so you could jump up on the counter and have Spencer finger you senseless. Even on the day you met you noticed his hands. He uses them when he talks, sometimes in a nervous way, but when he wants to use them he knows how.

“You’re very wet,” he teases. For a moment, Emily glances back and you’re positive she knows something’s happening, but Spencer told you she used to participate in sin-to-win weekends in Atlantic City, so she’s probably not a stranger to this kind of thing. “Emily totally knows.”

“If your friends are as good as you say they are, I’m pretty sure they all know.” You whisper as you roll your hips against his hand, which thankfully has started moving, providing you with the pressure you crave.

Spencer chides. “And you don’t care?”

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ at the end of the word and pull the cookies out of the oven, replacing the cooked dough with raw to work on the next batch. Even though Penelope and Luke get up to grab more food, teasing each other in the process, you don’t zip up your jeans, just maneuver yourself so that they can’t see. When they go back to their seats, Spencer’s fingers glide over you again. “Are they together?” You ask, motioning toward Luke and Penelope.

Spencer shakes his head. “But they should be. She feigns not being into him and he’s so bad at covering the fact that he likes her.”

“We should work on that.”

“You want to meddle?” He asks, apparently open to the idea.

“Absolutely.”

“Good, we’ll definitely start meddling. In the meantime, I think you have a job to do.”

You laugh quietly against his cheek and grind against those beautiful fingers, reveling in the feel of them against your sensitive skin until you begin to shake. “That was fun. When they leave…?”

“All night long. I don’t have to get up for work in the morning.”


	12. Chapter 12

Bouncing back and forth on your cherry red heels, you motion for the bartender to grab you a drink. Vodka tonic is your poison of choice tonight. Across the room stands a tall, lanky gentlemen - muscular - but not imposingly so. Soft brown curls fall delicately around his eyes. Hazel, you thought, but among the neon lights of the nearby dance floor it was impossible to pinpoint.

You smile and turn back to grab your drink, sipping slowly, the liquor subtly loosening your inhibitions. When he starts to stride over, you turn away, coyly hiding your face behind your glass.

Though the music is loud and other voices affront your ears, you can hear the padding of his footsteps as he comes to stand beside you. “Can I buy you another?” He asks, his voice is silky. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s him, but you feel your body stirring. 

“I’d like that,” you say softly.

He waves at the bartender, getting another drink for you and the same for himself. “If it’s not too forward of me to say, you look absolutely beautiful.” 

You laugh and take another sip. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” That’s normally not the type of thing you do - get so overt with someone, especially someone so new to you - but the bit of alcohol coursing through your system is making it hard to care. “What brings a man such as yourself to a bar alone on a Saturday night?”

The lights in the bar make his eyes shimmer with a mischievous glee. “Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to meet a beautiful woman?”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the matching red body-con dress you’re wearing, but not in a bad way. It was a good decision. “I would, but that isn’t all it. I know a heavy soul when I see one. So what really brings you here?”

“Perceptive,” he replies, clearly impressed. “Bad day on the job.”

“Cop?”

“Yea. Just a bad day. Mind taking my mind off it?”

With a smile, you turn to him and frame your chest with your arms, hoping to draw his attention. Getting the blood to flow south is a great distraction surely. “I can be a hell of a distraction.”

His laugh is like a drug and you want more of it. “How about we get to know each other a little bit?”

As the music on the dance floor fades into the background, you trade stories about your day, random facts like your favorite colors - his is purple, yours is green - but even after a few stories you could still see the hurt in his eyes. “Care to take this somewhere else?” You ask.

Without a word, he grabs your hand and leads you toward a back door, the metal clang of the door against the concrete wall sending a jolt of excitement through you. A quick glance around tells you you’re alone; he pushes you up against the wall. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been wanting to do to you since the moment I laid eyes on you?”

“I can imagine.” There’s some alcohol coursing through your system, but nothing you can’t handle. You know exactly what you’re doing and you want this. “Want to tell me?”

A heavy breath rushes over your ear. “How about a show you instead?”

A whimper escapes your lips as he lifts you slightly against the wall, his hands deftly pushing your dress just above your pussy, the cold air hitting your heated skin. His lips find your pulse point and he begins to suck while his fingers flick the lace aside. “Already wet?” He asks.

“What can I say? I guess I’m a bit of an exhibitionist.” 

A delicious growl emanates from his throat. “Touch yourself.”

Practically in a trance, you dip two fingers into yourself and pull them out, licking your arousal off one while and then offering him the other. 

When he pulls your finger into his mouth, every tension of the day falls away. With his left hand, he pulls your left leg around his back before unzipping his pants and releasing his cock. You feel him, already half hard as he bucks into his own hand and against you. 

He braces a hand behind you and uses the other to slip himself inside you. When you moan, he smiles against your skin, his hand falling from the concrete wall to your hair, cradling your head. “Fuck me,” you breathe.

Your hands snake around his neck when his hand slides up your leg and squeezes your ass. Every muscle in your body is pulsing as his cock fills you inch by inch. Biting your lip, you buck into him, begging without words for him to fuck you against the wall. You want to feel the concrete dig into your skin, want the rake of the scratch marks and the sting of the afterburn. 

He breathes heavily against your neck as he pulses inside you. It’s not just the feeling of him inside you, it’s his loss of control that leaves you breathless. You bite down on his neck, hoping to leave him with a mark he’ll remember, and it spurs him on. 

Your ass pounds against the concrete, his hips snapping into yours with a force that takes you off guard. Grasping his hair, you pull on his bottom lip and grasp his ass. “Come inside me. Give it to me.”

“Needy, slut.”

You laugh breathlessly and open your eyes to see him staring back at you, gaze dark. “I will, as long as you keep your eyes on me.”

As he pumps into your heat, you feel the arousal gliding down your leg and your nipples pucker against the tight dress. When he grunts and holds himself inside you, you start to shudder and your hand slips between you, rubbing your clit until you come undone. “Oh my god.”

Laughing, he pulls out and pushes the lace back over your pussy before pressing a kiss to your lips that’s much more chaste than what just transpired. “That was amazing,” Spencer breathes. “You spoil me.”

“Well, you had a bad day at work, I couldn’t sit here and do nothing,” you laugh. “That was super kinky. We should definitely do it again sometime. But we might want to get back to the car or someone is gonna see me with cum dripping down my leg.”

Spencer slips his tongue into your mouth and moans. “What if I want that?”

“Then I guess we should take a slow walk back to the car.” You push down your dress and grab his hand. 

He shivers and rearranges himself. “Oh, I got a delicious idea.”

The gleam in his eye makes you giggle. “Should I ask?”

“You can ask. But I’m not going to tell you. It should be a surprise.”

It’s a good thing you like surprises.


	13. Chapter 13

Patent leather black heels, a purple dress the hugs every curve and your hair perfectly coifed, you stride to the car with Spencer right behind you. “Please tell me. Please?”

“Never,” he laughs, opening the car door for you. “But I’ll take mercy on you. If you happen to guess before we get there, I’ll let you know if you’re right.”

Happily, you bounce in your seat and buckle yourself in as Spencer slips in on the driver’s side. “Okay, okay. Does this has something to do with our dynamic?”

“Yes,” he says softly, the slight change in his voice indicating that Sir is the only acceptable title. 

The difference in demeanor makes you squirmy. “Is this something we’ve done before?”

“Partially, yes. One aspect is new.”

You rack your brain, running through the list of things you’d told him you were willing to try nearly a year ago. There was one thing you tried weeks ago that you absolutely loved - maybe that was part of it. “More ropes?” He’s silent for a moment, so you know you’re on to something. “Suspension play?”

“That’s one part.” His voice gets a little lower. He’s excited about this, and that eagerness influences you even though you don’t know what he has planned yet. 

Reaching over, he grabs your hand and continues to drive, his thumb ghosting over the back of your palm. “Any ideas?”

The lightbulb goes off. “Sir, are we- are we going somewhere where people can watch?”

His smile spread across his face and you lose your breath. “Yes.”

—-

The drive lasts nearly an hour, leaving you to imagine all the eyes that will be on you both. When he parks the car, he turns to you and asks, “Are you wet already?”

“Yes, Sir.” Wet is an understatement. Saturated is more accurate.

He opens the passenger side door for you and takes your hand before grabbing a bag he’s brought with you, filled with ropes and changes of clothes for you both. It’s just an apartment building - very unassuming. “There are some ground rules for this,” he says, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning you toward him. “Physically, this isn’t much different than anything we’ve done before, but the audience is. I’ll be using light name calling, like I always do. If anything happens and it gets too much for you, use your safe word. It doesn’t matter who’s there.”

“Of course, Sir,” you reply. His concern in all of this is what you love about him most of all. “Are you excited, Sir?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yes.”

“Why?” Numerous times before, you told him why this lifestyle completed you in ways you’d never thought possible, but you rarely asked him. “What is it about this, all of this, that makes you happy?”

For a moment, he contemplates his answer. “After prison, I couldn’t control much, but with you I do, because you give it. When it comes to some of the more extreme things we’ve done, I guess the appeal is knowing what lengths you’ll go to for me.”

“Big ones.” You step up on your tip toes and kiss him deeply before he grasps your hand and brings you inside. 

In the elevator, you want to push him up against the all and make him fuck you, but you don’t, too excited for what’s ahead. He knocks on the apartment door; it’s just a penthouse taking up the entire top floor. 

“Evening,” the man says, extending his hand toward Spencer and then yourself. “You must be Dr. Reid, and this ravishing creature must be Y/N.”

“That she is,” Spencer said proudly.

The man and owner of the apartment, Mason Hunter, ushers you inside. It’s nothing special. People think that every BDSM or D/s lifestyle venue is the dark place bathed in red light, but while you’re sure they exist, Spencer assures you it’s normally more like this - a nice penthouse or apartment with a plethora of rooms for varying activities. 

Mason tells you that nearly 100 people will be attending the party - some spectators and some participators. He asks which ones you are.

“We’ll be participating,” Spencer says calmly. “Just her and I though. I don’t share well, but I’d like to show her off.”

You blush and lean into him when Mason compliments you once again. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to be doing, so I can direct you to the right room?”

Spencer looks down at where your head is buried in his arm. “Would you like to tell Mason what we’ll be doing tonight?”

“Suspension play, Mr. Hunter.”

“No Sir?” He asks.

“Sir is reserved for Him.” You look up at Spencer and smile, following Mason as he tells Spencer what a lucky man he is.

He opens the door to where hooks are screwed into the ceiling. “The rules are simple here. I’ll write instructions on each couple or group’s door regarding whether or not spectators can only watch or whether they can participate as well. Anyone who doesn’t abide by the rules gets kicked out. No questions asked. Can I ask how long you’ve been together?”

“A little over a year,” Spencer replies. “Slightly less than a year in the lifestyle together.” 

When the doorbell rings once again, Mason excuses himself to let others in, mostly spectators you learn, with a few other participants milling their way in. As the guests continue to pile their way into the spacious penthouse, Mason gives you an instruction list to tape to the door for the spectators and insists you can enter your room at any time. “Any other questions?” He asks before you turn to go.

Spencer shakes his head, but you speak up. “I have two. Is this your place?”

“Yes, I work 20 minutes away and it’s fairly lucrative, hence the space.”

“Okay, now I have three all together,” you laugh. “I’m assuming you have a bedroom that no one is allowed in?” 

He laughs and you feel Spencer chuckle at your side. “Yes. That’s the only room that’s off limits.”

“Last one. Do you have a cleaning crew come in after one of these parties? I would imagine there’s stuff everywhere.”

Mason lets out a belly laugh. “Absolutely. I have people come in to clean once a month regardless, but I have people that are ‘sensitive to the event’ come in to do clean up the day after, so I’ll have people in tomorrow.”

“That’s all, Mr. Hunter,” you laugh. “Just curious.”

Spencer kisses the top of your head when you turn to find your room. No one is there yet, so he starts to rig ropes to the ceiling. “Do you have anything to say or ask before we start?”

“Can we have the lights dimmed? This is new for me, so-”

“No need to justify, I understand.”

Outside the room, you hear people stirring. “I’m ready, Sir,” you whisper, knowing spectators will be joining you soon. 

He instructs you to remove your dress, leaving you in only your black lace panties. “God, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Just focus on me, love.”

Nodding, you feel your legs quiver as the first spectators enter, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. As Spencer had told Mason, only he is allowed to answer questions from the spectators - you are just to do as you’re told. 

Though the door continues to open and more onlookers file in, you keep your gaze locked on Spencer’s, watching with rapt attention as he ties the first of the ropes affixed to the ceiling around your wrists. They’re bamboo silk so they’re soft; after time passes however, they will dig into your skin, leaving marks for hours.

Your eyes are on Spencer, but everyone else’s eyes are on you. For some reason you thought you’d care more, but you don’t. You want them to watch your devotion, your depravity. 

He makes quick work of tying you up, your knees bent in front of you and tied to your thighs. After he lifts you and ensures the ropes are tied safely, you’re essentially in an upward fetal position. Mason makes it a point to come watch - you specifically. Knowing Spencer was about to show everyone in this room who you belonged to made your pussy quiver. 

“How long she been yours?” Someone asks out of your line of sight. 

Spencer doesn’t bother looking toward the one who asked, but he answers. “A little less than a year. And now she’s perfectly pliant. And needy.”

You swallow hard and feel his finger slip between your pussy and the lace, pulling it to the side so that everyone in the vicinity could see how deliciously wet you already are. When he passes, you see him smile. Finally, he turns his attention toward the audience. “How about a vote? Which hole first? Can I see a show of hands?”

You’re practically gushing already. Wiggling against the ropes is a bit uncomfortable, but it’s nothing you can’t manage. Once he gauges the audience’s preference, he crouches down in front of your face. “Looks like they want to see me use that pretty little mouth,” he says, his eyes clouded with lust and pride. “How does that sound?”

“Amazing, Sir. I’d love that.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m a slut, Sir. Your slut.”

“That’s right.” Standing up, he removes his cock from his boxers and teases you, barely touching your tongue. You stretch for him and he laughs at your desperation. “Oh, and look she’s already dripping on the floor.” You didn’t notice that. “Open wide.”

In an instant, you do as he commands, feeling some of the pressure lift as he cradles the back of your head so that you don’t have to keep it up yourself. You moan when the head of his cock hits your tongue. Somehow he tastes even better in this situation. Maybe it’s the adrenaline running through you. After months of training, you can take him fairly easily now.

His cock slides across your tongue and down your throat. At first he’s gentle, even inviting others to come and see your throat pop with each thrust. Just looking, no touching, of course. As far as you can tell, he grabs the ropes binding your hands and uses it as leverage to move you back and forth over his mouth.

Moaning, he picks up the pace, telling you over and over again what a good girl you are. Some spectators - men and women - are touching themselves. Others sound like they are but you can’t tell. You steady your breathing, in and out through your nose as his cock hits the back of your throat. His muscles tighten. You want him to come, but you know he won’t. It’s too quick and he knows he’s close too, so he removes himself and walks toward the bag of supplies he brogan with you. 

When he returns, he’s holding your stainless steel plug, with a purple cubic zirconia heart at the end of it. “Suck.”

The cool metal enters your mouth; you know what you’re prepping it for. He pulls it from your mouth and allows the small trail of spit to fall down onto your cheek. Taking hold of the rope, he spins you around and nudges the plug against your ass. He knows Mason came here to watch you and Spencer knows it, so he’s playing to him - letting Mason know that he’s the only one that can have you. 

For a moment, the stretch is uncomfortable, but the moment the plug moves passed the tight ring of muscle, you feel full, but you need to feel fuller. “What do you want, love?” He asks, sensing your desperation. 

“I want you to fuck my little pussy, Sir. I need it.”

“Is that right?” He asks, condescendingly. “Then beg for it. I don’t simply want you to say it. I want to feel it.”

With the rope digging into your skin, the feel of your arousal dripping down your ass, the fullness of the plug, the feeling of all eyes on you, it’s all so much and it brings tears to your eyes. “Please, Sir. I need it. I need your cock. My pussy needs it.”

“Whose pussy?”

“Yours, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. Please, I need it. I-”

You gasp as he slips his cock inside you to the hilt. In this position, in this situation, you feel so ridiculously full. “More, Sir. Harder, Sir. Please.”

Head hanging back, you begin to sway, his grip on the ropes tight again. With each push and pull, you feel more and more shaky. You’re so tight it practically hurts. With each thrust you’re milking him. You whimper when he picks up the pace, swinging you harder and faster into him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe. It comes out of you in waves and you can’t stop it. 

He’s close. It’s maddening because you can’t do anything to make yourself come faster. You just have to wait and hope that he takes mercy on your quivering body soon enough. “Where should I come tonight, little girl?”

“Pussy. Your pussy, Sir.”

“As you wish, love.”

One final time, he pulls you again him, burying himself inside you as he spills into you. He groans and bends over to place a kiss on your leg. “Such a good girl.” Pulling out, he allows the spectators to witness the come dripping out of you as he politely asks them to leave. Clean up is somehow more intimate - something he wants just for the two of you. “How’re you doing?” He asks as the last of the audience leaves the room.

“Shaky and thoroughly fucked. Can I call you by your name now?”

“Yes.”

“Thoroughly fucked and a lil’ sleepy and really smiley, Spence. What about you? Everything you wanted?”

“Gods, yes. I think I was more aware of the audience than you were.”

He begins to untie the binds around your legs, gently lowering you to the floor, before undoing the ties around your wrists. “Like I knew they were there, but I didn’t care, and I wanted them to see what you were doing to me. Who I belonged to.”

Kneeling down, he kisses you, loosening the ropes until they fall away and he can gather them up again. “Mine. Mine. Mine,” he says softly. He grabs wipes from the bag of supplies and cleans you both off, but your a melty puddle on the floor. “I still have plans,” he continues excitedly. 

“What might those be?”

“Still a surprise. But I do have a comfy pair of clothes for you to leave in.”

You sit up and smile. “You thought of everything.”

After changing into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and he into sweats and a t-shirt, he asks if you want to observe anything before heading to the next part of his surprise. But you don’t. On another day you could come here and observe, but now you just want him. 

You exit the room and find Mason heading toward the kitchen, so you thank him and promise you’ll be in touch. His eyes rake over your body, but all it does is make the experience more heady. Your Spencer’s and only his. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Like the perfect gentlemen he escorts you out of the building and drives a few blocks before stopping in front of a fancy hotel. “We’re staying the night,” he says with a smile. “In the bag I have some of your favorite movies, a blanket from home, snacks, and we’ll order pizza and snuggle in bed.”

“Yesssss,” you sigh. “While you order can I get a little nap in? I got fucked sleepy.”

He laughs and hauls you out of the car, allowing you to lean against him as you walk inside and check in. The room is sprawling, the bed even larger than the one you have at home. 

After tucking you in, you can hear him on the phone, ordering your usual meatlover’s pizza with agreements to meet in the lobby, before you drift off.

It’s nearly an hour until he wakes you and you devour two slices of pizza a piece. “That was delicious,” he mumbles with his mouth half full. “If you want I can go get us ice cream later. There’s a place a few doors down.”

“Sounds amazing.” You’re still a little tired, your muscles a little heavy with the evening’s events, but you’re content. “Until then, can we cuddle? I’m feeling very clingy.”

Spencer chuckles and slides back against the wall, pulling you against his chest. “You doing okay?” There’s a hint of worry in his voice, as if you might’ve gone too far.

“I’m great, Spence. Just a little worn. That was intense, but…amazing.” 

With that, he’s able to relax and begins combing his hand through your hair. “I love you, you know. More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” you reply, your head feeling heavy against his chest and the steady thumping of his heart.


	14. Chapter 14

“You sure about this,” Spencer asks, gallantly opening the door to the tattoo shop. 

After the suspension play session nearly a month and a half earlier, you and Spencer sat down and had a serious conversation. This was forever. The dynamic, the life together, marriage, kids, the whole nine. You wanted it all and you wanted it all with each other. From that conversation came another confession from Spencer; he’d always imagined the woman he love with a tattoo of his choosing, marked forever in a way that no one else could understand. 

You shake your head enthusiastically. “Absolutely.” Spencer is your forever. “You sure you don’t want to know what quote I chose beforehand?” You query for the fiftieth time.

“Nope,” he says confidently, giving your hand a squeeze. “I trust you. I trust this.”

You don’t know your quote either, but you feel just as he does. Whatever he picked will be straight from the heart. 

Spencer shakes hands with the tattoo artist that’s going to be working with you. She knows your situation - not specifics - but enough to know that this isn’t some ordinary couple’s tattoo. “So neither of you know what the other chose?”

You reply simultaneously, leading her to go on a tangent about how adorable you are together. You couldn’t agree more.

She leads you to a room toward the back that’s purely hers. It’s a lot like Penelope, bright and colorful. Only difference is her name is Jenna, and a brunette. At Spencer’s request, you’re going first. A tattoo isn’t always crazy painful, for many it’s not. For you it’s that delicious kind of pain and Spencer wants to watch as you go through it for him, trusting him to pick something that will live on your skin forever. 

With a deep breath, you hand her your dominant forearm and fall into easy conversation with her and Spencer, all the while savoring the burn of the needle on your arm. “You okay?” She asks.

“Yea,” you reply. “It’s pleasantly unpleasant.”

Both she and Spencer seem to read between the words, because you’re kind of wet and don’t want to admit it. Spencer looks you up and down, watches you trying to subtly squirm within your seat and shoots you a look like ‘I told you so.’ He knew this would happen - the sexy, confident bastard. 

It’s a couple of hours before you’re done, leaving Spencer time to go grab all there of you Thai food, with endless thanks from Jenna, who keeps insisting that it’s not necessary. 

While he’s out, Jenna asks you a little bit more about your relationship and the dynamic. You sense she’s interested in pursuing it in some way. “Well, if you want to find someone in the lifestyle go to a munch. Spencer can recommend a few when he gets back with food. Man, I’m hungry,” you continue in one breath. 

“Alright, I’m all done, but you can’t look until Spencer comes back.” She laughs as she holds her own hands over the new ink on your arm. “The quote he chose is just…I need to find me a Spencer.”

You blush softly and whisper, “I think they broke the mold with him, but we could definitely get you to a good munch with some reputable doms.”

Spencer walks back in with food in tow. For a moment, you’re so ready for spicy peanut sauce that you forget about the tattoo, but Spencer notices it’s done and asks if you’ve looked. “Of course not.” The Sir is implied and he can sense it. “Can I now?”

He nods softly and you stare down at the new ink on your arm. Your favorite flower proceeds it, so lifelike and colorful. It reads: “In an endless garden of flowers, I will always pick you.”

Feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you set down your food and stand up to kiss him. “It’s beautiful, Spence.”

“Always,” he whispers.

You swear you see Jenna shed a tear out of the corner of your eye, but she quickly wipes it away and the three of you go to town on your Thai food, peanut sauce flipping up onto your cheek. Spencer’s drink practically comes out of his nose when he laughs. “You sure this is what you want for the rest of your life?”

“Absolutely.”

Jenna huffs mockingly. “Okay, seriously, where do I find one of you?”

You laugh and tell him about her munch question and Spencer writes down a few addresses for her. “These are where I used to go. I don’t need them anymore.”

Tucking the paper into her back pocket, she takes another bite of her food and asks Spencer if he’s ready to go. Once he’s in the chair, she asks if the design and quote you chose is still what you want for him - and it absolutely is.

When the needle touches his skin, you barely see him flinch, but then you remember that he’s been shot numerous times. “Feel okay?”

“Babe, I’ve been shot in the neck and had my ass beat in prison,” he laughs, quickly clarifying for Jenna that he was in fact provably framed for murder.

Jenna scoffs and dips the needle into the ink she’s using. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ve tattooed some rough looking guys and some ex-cons, so I’m sure I’ve tatted a murderer at some point. Good to know you’re not one though.”

Spencer’s quote is a bit shorter, so it doesn’t take as long to do. You can tell he doesn’t get the same physical thrill out of it that you do and given what he’s been through in his life that’s not really surprising, but you do understand what he means about the emotional connection. Seeing his skin flare up under the steady movement of the needle, knowing he trusted you enough to pick the quote that would live there forever - it made your heart beat faster. 

“Alright, all done,” she says.” 

“Can I look?” He asks.

You like that he asks. Maybe he’d switch one day…just for fun…

You snap back to reality and nod, watching as his eyes scan over the quote you chose. “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

He sniffles and tries to hide his tear but he can’t and Jenna dismisses herself for a minute so you can have a moment alone. “I thought it really fit. This dynamic makes me yours in so many ways, but I wanted you to know that you’re mine too.”

With his free hand, he pulls your chin toward him and presses his lips against yours, the tip of his tongue coasting over your bottom lip. “It’s perfect. You know how much I love you, right?”

“Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it, so by all means, say it again,” you laugh.

“I love you.”

After Jenna comes back, she gives instructions on how to take care of your tattoos. “Try not to touch it too much. A little bit is fine, but you’ll risk scarring otherwise.” 

“We’ll take is easy.” The glint in his eye says he has something in mind for when you get home anyway. Spencer settles up the bill and gives her a nice tip, thanking her profusely for taking part in the moment. You insist that she call if she ever has questions about the lifestyle.

“Absolutely! Thanks again. You two might be the cutest couple I’ve ever had in here. And that’s saying something because I’ve been here for 10 years.”

With a quick wave, you leave hand in hand, enjoying a quiet ride home. You catch Spencer glancing at his arm, and you can do nothing but stare at your own. It’s so perfect. You couldn’t have picked a better quote from him to you.

Inside, Spencer backs you into the wall, cradling your face in his hands to kiss you. “I love mine.”

“I love mine, too,” you reply.

He takes a deep breath and slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him, feeling close to him in a way that’s different from the other things you’ve done together. As his left hand slips underneath your shirt, fingers grading delicately up your spine, you walk you both back toward the couch. 

When he falls back into the couch, he brings you with him, situating your legs on either side of his. As you begin to grind against him, he lifts your newly-tattoed arm to his lips and kisses it softly. “I promise I’ll always choose you.”


	15. Chapter 15

Every aspect of what would happen tonight had been previously discussed. It’s obviously a first for you, but Spencer has only done it once before and his sub at the time safe-worded, so he’d stopped immediately. 

“You sure?” He asks.

Like he was at work, he hated not knowing everything all the time, and when his last sub safe-worded he felt guilty for not knowing that it was apparently a hard limit - given she didn’t realize it at the time - but still he felt guilty. 

“I’m positive, Spence. It’s something I think I’ll be into, but I promise I’ll safe word if I’m not feeling it on any level.” Your jeans are tight, the seam running against your clit in a way that’s already got you going. This is going to be fun. “Would you like me to go get changed, Sir?”

Spencer gulps and nods, the bulge in his pants growing as you walk away to put on the instructed outfit. It’s a matching bra and panty set, both see-through, but lined on the edges with delicate red and pink hearts. He picked that out for this because the whole human furniture kink can leave a sub feeling humiliated or degraded and sometimes that’s the point, but he never wants you to feel that way so he went with hearts.

You slip out of your clothes and into the outfit, feeling the arousal pool between your legs already. Aside from the matching set, he didn’t instruct anything, so you ask if you can pair the outfit with your red patent-leather pumps. 

He practically chokes out a yes, and you have to laugh. He’s really looking forward to this. Hopefully you love it. Though you’re not afraid to safe word with him, not anymore. 

Walking outside, you meet his gaze. It takes everything in him not to take you right there. “I’m going to go over the rules one more time. First, there is to be no speaking unless I specifically ask you too. Even if you make a sound, I’ll use the ballgag. Second, you may move, but don’t drop my book. Third, we’ll only do this for a max of 30 minutes because I don’t want you to get annoyingly uncomfortable. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Spencer walks into the kitchen to grab himself a drink as you assume your position on your hands and knees next to his armchair. Given the words he can read per minute, when he sits down to read he can read between 3 and 6 books in the time you’ll be doing this.

You keep your back as straight as possible as he lays four books on your back. Two he’s picked for himself, The Return of the King and Moby Dick, the other two you can tell he’s picked to up the anticipation for you - A Sport and a Pastime by James Salter and Couples by John Updike - both focused on sex in one way or another. 

At your side, Spencer falls into his chair, legs both up and crossed, his body hunched over - his usual reading position. His drink sits in the cup holder on the arm chair and you silently thank the gods that he didn’t ask you to balance that. It would be infinitely harder and more uncomfortable. 

Feeling the books waver on your back, you straighten your arms as much as possible. You’re almost positive you’re dripping down your leg already, but you can’t check, and Spencer’s subtle indifference at your side heightens it all. It’s because he pretends at indifference; you know the truth. 

Spencer stands up and places the book he was reading, Couples, underneath the rest of them. He’s finished it. It’s one of the shorter ones so you imagine it’s only been 5 minutes or so. Without a word, he walks into your bedroom and strides out seconds later with your stainless steel butt plug. He crouches down and uses his thumb to open your mouth, placing the cool steel inside. It’s heavy on your tongue and you feel your pussy quiver. You swear you see a smirk cross his face as he gets up to return to his seat. 

You moan inwardly as you suck the steel in your mouth, shivering when Spencer absentmindedly runs his pointer and middle fingers up and down your slit. They snake in between your overheated skin and the panties you’re wearing and slip into you. It takes everything in you not to moan.

A flip of the page can be heard at your side. It’s been a while you think - you wonder if Spencer is getting distracted by this as much as you are. You hope so. He pulls his fingers from your slickness and goes to remove the plug from your mouth with his pinky and ring fingers before wordlessly replacing them with the fingers coated in your arousal; you’re meant to clean them.

Sucking on his fingers, you channel every aspect of your being into making him hard. You swipe your tongue over and around him, bobbing your head back and forth just like you would on his cock. When he groans, you smile to yourself.

He’s finished another book, and by the weight on your back you assume it’s one of the bigger books he’d chosen. Something says The Return of the King. A few weeks prior he’d mentioned wanting to read it again. Your body begins to shake when his breath hits the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I have two other books to read, but you’re distracting me.”

Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. You open your mouth and let his thumb slip inside  
“Do you have any idea what this does to me?” He asks.

You chance a glance at his cock and smile around his thumb. 

Quickly, he places the plug back in your mouth for a second before pushing the books off your back. He stands up and pushes his pants down so he can kneel down behind you. Although you’re no longer holding his books, you still remain motionless as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and lets them pool at your knees.

Wrapping his arm around your midsection, he pulls you up flush against his chest and removes the plug from your mouth. “You’re allowed to speak now,” he says, biting your earlobe. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me, Sir. Please. I want the plug in my ass and your cock in my pussy and your fingers in my mouth. Please.”

As he pushes the cold steel against the tight ring of muscle, you push down against him, whimpering as it fills you. “Show me who I belong to,” you breathe.

His fingers graze along your throat and up to your mouth, where his fingers now rest. Pumping himself twice, he pushes himself inside you, the pressure mounting from both ends. He thrusts upward, hands grasping at every inch of your skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl. 

Between fingers in your mouth, his hand covering your pussy and the fullness you feel, you know it won’t be long.

“Come for me, Y/N.” He begs. 

You buck into his hand, rubbing your clit against his fingers and reach back, gathering his hair in your hand to pull his lips to yours. “I love you, Spence.”  
Those simple words push him over the edge and he buries himself inside you, shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. As he collapses into your back, you place your hand over his and massage his fingers into your clit until you cry out, your eyes hot with tears as you almost fall into the floor. As always, Spencer is there to catch you. 

“God, I love you,” he breathes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Spence. Was that everything you wanted?”

“Yes. Absolutely. A hundred times over. You?”

You're bereft as he pulls himself out of you, but he turns you toward him and gathers you close. “Yes, I’m a little surprised at how much I enjoyed that. Like...I could do that frequently.”

“Once a week?” He asks, smiling when you nod. “It’s a date. What do you want to do now?”

“Cuddles. Definitely need cuddles.”

“Shower cuddles?” He asks hopefully.

“You just want be all naked and wet and drippy.”

Snickering, he swipes his fingers along your slit. “I’ve already got you naked and wet and drippy, but also...guilty.”


	16. Chapter 16

Anticipation sweeps through the stairwell as you hurry up to your apartment, ready for your no-interruptions weekend with Spencer. Work had been kicking both of your asses for weeks, but you’d both somehow managed to get the same weekend off to spend some quality time together.

Spencer sped through his paperwork from the last case to get home before you, leaving you to wonder what he was planning. For the last two hours, he’d been dropping hints, but you couldn’t figure it out. 

As you knock on the door, cracking it open a bit, you call inside to make sure you aren’t interrupting anything. “Spence?”

“Come in!”

Placing your bag down, you call to him again, his voice returning from the bedroom. Legs like jelly, you walk toward your bedroom to find Spencer proudly laying across your newly made bed. But there’s one stark difference. At the end of the bed stands a machine the likes of which you’ve never seen - in porn, yes. But not in real life. “Oh my god,” you say, a subby smile spreading across your face. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he replies, barely containing a scrunched up smile. “After much thought and even more research, I went out and bought this collapsible, stand-up fucking machine with six settings, a remote for me, not for you,” he says touching your nose, “Interchangeable dildos and a little mirror so that can see yourself being fucked. Sound like fun?”

Cheeks burning, you nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head and stands tall, indicating that play time is about to start. “Strip.”

Without any grace, too excited for whatever Spencer has in store, you peel your clothes off, throwing them in his direction and watching as his cock pushes against the confines of his flannel pajama pants. “What position would you like me in, Sir?”

“Just lie down on your back. Spread your legs.”

You do as he commands and sink into the mattress, reveling in the feel of clean and still slightly warm sheets. The desire to touch yourself is overwhelming, but Spencer hasn’t given you permission and your decisions are his right now. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your ‘itchy fingers,’ lacing them above your head as you wait for Spencer’s instructions. You hear him stand up before he quickly pulls your body to the edge of the bed. “Pick a number between 1 and 5.”

“Three, Sir.”

He slaps your pussy playfully and places the machine near your body, the dildo touching your entrance. “That’s how many orgasms you’ll have before I touch you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, my love. Bring your knees up and hold them unless I say otherwise.”

Sliding your hands over your knees, you pull them up and shiver when the machine begins to stir. The dildo pushes at your entrance; it’s thick, but your slick is already allowing for easy entrance. You can tell he has it on the lowest setting, the veiny shaft gently rubbing against your walls, your body dripping like honey at the insistent pressure building up inside you. “How is that?” He asks.

“Very good, Sir. Not as good as you, but I like that you’re watching me.”

“That’s my good girl. Now relax.”

He turns up the speed on the machine and inhales sharply as the dildo slips in to the hilt, making you gasp, your legs tightening and heightening the sensation. In quick succession, he ups the levels to three and then four, standing up from his seat to disrobe. You imagine he’s touching himself, roughly grabbing his cock as he watches the instrument fuck you, knowing it’s he who controls it. 

Bouncing gently on the bed, you buck into the machine and try to silence your mind, allowing the rhythmic whirrs of the machine and the soft sounds of Spencer’s hand massaging his cock to wash over you. “May I speak, Sir?”

“Yes, what is it, love?” His voice breaks slightly and you smile to yourself. Despite his position, you have the power to bring him to his knees. 

“Are you touching yourself, Sir?” Knowing full well the answer.

“Yes, I am.” The words get caught in his throat as he pushes the machine to level 5 of 6. “I’m glad you only picked three and not four or five,” he replies, his voice getting closer to you. You imagine him leaning forward, eyes glued to your dripping sex. “I don’t think I’d have the willpower to watch you that many times without touching you.”

“Are you imagining it’s my hand around your cock? The other cupping your balls?”

Groaning, he pushes the machine to its max, ordering you to come as your body shakes, skin prickling with heat. The machine is powerful but nearly silently, allowing the sound of Spencer’s grunts and your cries to fill your ears. “Fuck, Sir. I don’t know if I can handle two more of those.”

“Who said it would only be two?” He asks cockily. “I said two before I touch you.”

The thought is overwhelming. If it weren’t for the fact that he cut the machine back down to level one, you would’ve come again right then and there. He quickly switches out the dildos, showing it to you first. It’s shorter in length than the last one but around the same width and smoother than the first. 

As you bit your lip, he pushes down on your thighs and says to keep them open, spread wide for his viewing pleasure. “And stop biting your lip. You know what it does to me.”

Giggling, you gasp as he kicks up the machine again. He doesn’t start at the first level; you can’t quite place which one he’s on, you just know it’s not the relaxing pulsing of the first one. 

You mewl as your body grinds against the soft blankets, chasing orgasms like the waves chase the shoreline. “Can I touch myself, Sir?”

“No,” he says sharply. “But look up toward me.”

He points down at the mirror on the machine. Your eyes are transfixed as you watch the smooth dildo slid in and out of your pussy. The act of watching is somehow even more erotic than what’s actually happening. Your walls constrict around the device and your head falls back. 

“Did I say you could lie back?”

Your head shoots back up to watch and out of the corner of your eyes you can see Spencer touching himself again. When you’re about to come for the second time, he tells you to open your mouth and thrusts his cock into your mouth, coming down your throat with a soft grunt. 

For the third and final solo orgasm, Spencer flips you over, molding your body to his will until you’re on your hands and knees with the machine fucking you from behind. “For this one, be as loud as you want and move however you want. But no touching yourself.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As the machine turns on again, you buck back into the machine, fucking yourself on it and turning your head to watch Spencer watching you. He’s practically willing you to come a third time so he can finally touch you without breaking his own rules. 

Your arms begin to shake as it crests again, leaving you weak as your top half falls into the mattress. In order to keep from touching yourself, you slide your hands in your hair and tug lightly, bouncing your ass up and down for Spencer’s amusement. You almost want him to break, to push the machine aside and fuck you senseless until you’re quaking in his arms, but your body tenses up and you cry out, pulling yourself off the machine and collapsing into the bed. “Please, Sir. I need you.”

He doesn’t need any permission. He removes the rest of his clothes and lifts you up, lying down on the bed where you once were before tapping his thighs. It’s your permission to ride him. Crawling on top of him, you grasp his cock and slide down onto it, gasping as he pulls you flush against him and reaches down to place the dildo, already slick with your arousal, at the entrance of your ass. 

With the remote in hand, he returns to the first level and holds you steady as the device pushes passed the tight ring of muscle. Between the machine and him, you feel remarkably full and your mouth drops open in pleasure. He steals a kiss and begins to move in tandem with the machine, driving his cock up into you. “Sir, I’m not going to last long. Do I need permission to come?”

“No,” he whispers against you, biting down on your earlobe. “You may come whenever you want, but I want to see it.”

He wants to watch everything. As he plunges into you, he gently wraps his hand around your throat and steadies your gaze on his. Your body is in a constant state of shaking, unable to control your muscles as the machine and his body bring you over the edge for the fourth time. 

Trembling, you mold into him, dripping over him like silk as he continues to pump into you in search of his own release. When his voice catches in his throat again, you kiss him, swallowing his growl as he comes inside you. “Oh, fuck,” he says on a laugh. “I needed that.”

“Me too,” you say, grasping his cheek in your hand and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “How much did you spend on that thing?” 

“$500.”

“Worth it,” you giggle.

Removing the machine from you, he sits up and places you back down on the bed before pulling out, leaving you sated and subby. In silence, you watch as he cleans up you, himself and the machine before packing it away for another day. “What do you have planned for the rest of the weekend?”

Spencer climbs onto the bed and pulls you close, covering you both with the comforter. “Dinner in a little while? Then maybe sitting around all weekend naked and either watching tv or having sex? Come up with a plan?”

“A plan for what?” You laugh, kissing the underside of his chin. 

As you lay your head on his chest, he reaches over to the bedside drawer and shows you a red velvet box. “When we want to get married. Where.” His voice is steady but there’s a note of anticipation as you stare down at the rose gold solitaire diamond ring. “Y/N, there is no one else. I want you and only you for the rest of my life. Right now. Twenty years from now. When we’re old and gray. It’s you. Will you marry me?”

A tear falls from your eye as you kiss him like your life depends on it. “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

His hand shakes as he slips the ring onto your finger and it’s then that you see he is crying too. “I never in my life thought I’d find someone like you. That I would deserve someone like you. But I have and I believe it and I never want to let you go.”

“You’ll never have to,” you sigh happily, resting your head in the crook of his neck, excited for what the future holds.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story is now complete!

After a small and simple wedding put together by the BAU, Emily had somehow managed to get the Bureau to sanction the use of the unit’s new and improved jet in taking you and Spencer on your honeymoon. Fifteen years of invaluable service to the Bureau deserved a treat, Emily said. You and Spencer had discussed it at length, with you ensuring that he was truly happy with his decision. 

With all that he’d been through, he wanted a change - and deserved one. From this point forward, he’d consult for the BAU and teach for the Bureau, occasionally going on cases that were in DC or the surrounding states. “Are you really sure you’ll be happy with this work situation?” You ask for the fiftieth time. 

“More than happy. I’ll still be able to do things I love, help people, and have the life with you that I want. I plan on getting you good and pregnant on this honeymoon.”

“Oh, is that so?” You ask with a gleam in your eye. You’re so disgustingly, stupidly in love with him that the idea of carrying his child makes your heart race. 

When you’re finally up at cruising altitude, the jet pilot lets you know that it’s okay to move about the cabin. Slipping your seatbelt off, you climb into his lap. “How many babies do you want? Really.” You’d had this talk before, you both wanted kids, but now it’s real.

“Three,” he says softly. “Maybe four.”

“What are we trying to outdo Simmons?” You laugh, picturing your future family. “All jokes aside, I like the sound of that.”

Spencer chuckles against your skin, nose nuzzling against the crook of your neck. He sighs at the scent of the clean and fresh perfume he’d picked out for you this morning. “So,” he says deviously, “What should we do for the next seven and a half hours?”

Leaning forward, you kiss him before biting the corner of your lip and sinking down to the floor. The only other people on board are the pilot and a co-pilot that he’d asked to accompany him given the longer than usual flight, so you have no qualms about getting down and dirty on the jet. “Can I suck your cock, Sir?”

“Gods, yes.” He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you, tongue washing over your own, stealing your breath away as you snake your hands into his pants to pull him free. 

You wet your hand and slip it gently up and down his shaft, watching as his head falls back and his mouth drops open. Arousal pools between your legs, a drug-like high filling you as you take in the effect you have on him. When you kiss the tip of his cock, he hisses, control already waning. You lick your lips and wrap them around the head, flicking your tongue over the underside of him in a swirling motion. With him resting on your tongue, you link your fingers with his and say, “Please look at me, Sir. I want to watch you lose control.”

“Anything for my wife,” he says proudly, his throat tight with lust. When his eyes meet yours, you smile around him, taking him further into your mouth. With all the throat training you’ve had over the course of your relationship, you know exactly how to breathe around him. Each pass brings you closer and closer to his pelvic bone. You want to take all of him. Hold yourself there. Look into his eyes as he comes down your throat. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N. You’re so good at this.”

Pulling away, you kiss his balls and mumble. “I’ve had great training.”

Just as he’s about to reply, you swallow around him again and push yourself to take all of him. It’s a bit of a struggle, but with the breathing exercises he’s taught you, you manage, sliding your hand up to his neck to bring his gaze back to you.

Swallowing around him, you ask without words for him to give you what you want. “I’m going to come,” he says through clenched teeth. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m going to lose my mind.”

As much as you can smile, you do, laughing around him and sending a rumble through his body that makes him tremble. A hand flies to the seat in front of you and the other around your head, holding your mouth steady as he empties his come into you.

You chuckle when you pull away, cleaning around your lips with your fingers before climbing back into his lap. “Am I good cocksucker, Sir?”

“Not good,” he says, slipping his tongue over your bottom lip. “Amazing. Stellar. Out of this world.”

Worn out, and with many hours left to go, he pulls out a blanket and covers you both, allowing you to fall asleep with ease.

——

Nearly two hours later, you wake next to your new husband, deliriously happy. “Didn’t Garcia give us some champagne and chocolate covered strawberries?”

Nodding, Spencer asks you to grab them. They’re delicious and juicy, the chocolate just dancing on the edge of bitter, its sweetness still apparent. The champagne is perfect and you indulge in a glass more than is necessary, but you don’t care. “Dinner is in the mini-fridge. We can have that shortly before we land so that we can go straight to the hotel and sleep. I plan on taking you to the Trocadéro in the morning.”

“Where’s that?” You ask dreamily, ready and willing to take part in whatever plans he has for the next two weeks. 

“It’s a nice open space across the Seine facing the Eiffel Tower. We can watch the sunrise and have freshly baked croissants for breakfast.”

“That sounds perfect, Spence.” You slide your hand into his. “I have a question.”

“Go on.”

“Do you want to get started on that getting me good and pregnant thing right now?” 

Smiling, Spencer gives you a kiss before checking in with the pilot and co-pilot regarding flight time. It’s a cover to ensure they won’t be coming out anytime soon. Otherwise they’ll be in for a show. Once he’s sure you won’t be interrupted, he prompts you to stand in front of him, pulling your panties down and placing them in his jacket pocket. 

With a quick glance at the cockpit door, he shimmies his pants down just enough to give himself some movement. He tugs you down onto his lap and places himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly. The somewhat confined space makes him feel even bigger. You laugh into his mouth, giddy at the thought of getting started on the family you want. “Fuck me, Spence.”

His hand pushes up the back of your shirt, his fingers dancing along your spine as his cock thrusts upward. “Do you know how long I’ve been imagining this? Getting you pregnant?”

“Tell me,” you breathe.

You push your shirt underneath your breasts and offer him your nipple, moaning when he takes it into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the hardening peak. “Nearly a year. I can’t wait to see you pregnant.”

As he fucks you, he splays his hand over your stomach. Where your baby will be soon all things willing. “Fuck me, Y/N. Ride me.”

Bucking against him, you whimper softly. “Fill me up, Spence.” 

“Oh fuck. Fuck yea.”

You grasp his shoulder and dig your nails into the skin, making him his as he holds you down onto his throbbing cock. The second he spills into you, you start to quake and brace your hand on the ceiling. “Fuck. Oh my God.”

Shaking, you bury your head in his neck and cry out, combing your hands through your hair as the shockwaves subside. “I love you,” you whisper, kissing along his jawline. “Best decision I ever made was going to the bar that night.”

“Best decision I ever made was asking for your phone number.”

As best he can, he cleans himself up, pulling his pants back on before carrying you to the small couch at the back of the plane. Using a pillow, he props up your hips and lies behind you, your body flush against his. “Having your hips elevated helps the getting pregnant. It’s happening. In these two weeks. When we’re not out sightseeing, I’m going to be doing my damnedest.”

You sigh contentedly, molding yourself to him. “I’m sleepy again.”

“Sex can do that,” he laughs. “Another nap? Then dinner. Then hotel and pass out so we can see the sunrise tomorrow.”

There couldn’t be a more perfect plan. “Spence, I have another question. Is there anywhere in Paris, like in public, that you might want to…you know…?”

“God, I love you.”


End file.
